I have had this book idea for about 3 months or more and I struggle every day trying to expand on it. (One of the reasons I haven’t been blogging. I’ve been writing elsewhere.). Tonight, I was able to break through the stone walls of writers block and surf the rainbow of imagination. I am only in pre-writing stages, but I plan to make it a short story. So, with that in mind, you can help. I am looking for first and last names that are french in origin. Comment your suggestions if you wish to help a fellow writer! Au revoir!

If you have been following me, you will notice that I changed my site name from “The Invisible Child” to “Siren’s Call”. Some may be wondering “why?”

First, it is important to know that I am struggling with alot in my life right now, which was the sole purpose for this blog. Though I hoped their was someone out there who would read what I had to say, I just needed to write it.

Second, I am a creative person so I deal with things better when I can write or work with my hands. What does this have to do with the title change? I’ll tell you.

“The invisible child” represented only that dark side of me so I never felt like I was able to write anything else. Though, I write better when I am wrought with pain, I do have other ideas and thoughts to share. “Siren’s Call” will represent everything I need to say or want to say and the title is just as it says. It is a call for a listener. I hope those who follow me will continue to and I hope those who are reading this for the first time will enjoy what they are in for. Take care, everyone.
Siren

Yes. This is supposed to be a an uplifting quote to help a person move forward in their life and succeed, but what if the subject is toxic? What if the topic or issue that the person in question is pondering upon is detrimental to their mental or physical health? Why should they work toward it? This quote to me is misleading.

Things used to be different. I used to feel appreciated and loved by you. Now I feel like nothing, but an afterthought.

You come through those doors and I look up to greet you, but you never look happy to see me. So what do I do?

I chase after you into the kitchen and sit at the table as I watch you unpack your belongings and try to make conversation..even small talk.

Our words die and we part ways until a common entity calls us together once again.

I often spend time in solidarity. I am sure you contemplate as to why.

Every time they awaken you from your daze, you answer. You are alert and interested to them when they request your attention even if they just wish to tell you about their day, upcoming events, or accomplishments or to complain about a rough situation.

Why am I different? Is it because I am disabled? Am I such a strain that even the mere thought of my voice produces a cringe upon your face?

Maybe it is because I am the academic failure. Surely you would rather hear about the success of an engineer rather than a failed musician.

I know. It wasn’t my fault and that’s what you’ll say.

I know I have limitations……

but that is all you see. You are incapable of noticing the dreams, talents and passion I am capable of.

Listen to my words and my feelings. You once requested I speak to you, truth. Now I am invisible. nothing…but a being who takes up space in your home.